


Say You Won't Let Go

by highgarden123



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Love, Season 3, this is legit really angsty and existential
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highgarden123/pseuds/highgarden123
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 FINALE. Laura isn't coming back, and Carmilla doesn't know how to let go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was hella emotional after the finale and was inspired to write this. Title based on Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur.

She felt it. The moment the life drained from Laura, invisible wisps sighing out of her lips and fingertips. The gentle, oh so tiny slump in her body as if some force high up had released the puppet’s strings, and Laura Hollis was gone.

Carmilla Karnstein sat there, the body of the girl she loved cradled against her chest. She didn’t know what was happening. Her mind was a haze of shock and fear and grief and confusion and all she could do was stare dumbfounded down at the face of the only person in her four hundred year long life she had ever truly loved. The delicate lashes, the skin so smooth against her fingers, the lips she so loved to kiss. The brown-blonde locks of hair that framed a sculpted, soft face which had fit right into her palm all those times she’d gently cupped it.

She was dimly aware that Perry was awake and that LaFontaine was shouting something in joy, joy that was nothing but an unattainable dream to her at that moment and forever onwards, and that they were still in the dark cave and for all she knew it could come crashing down at any moment. Let it, the back of her mind whispered. Let this whole world crumble. Nothing mattered. And it was true. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing beyond the still-warm girl she clutched in the arms, nothing beyond the short life they’d built for themselves, nothing beyond the long nights they’d shared in each other’s arms giggling and cocooned in the safety and certainty of each other.

Laura Hollis was dead.

Carmilla softly ran a finger across Laura’s lips. She knew every crease there, every little bump, knew just where they’d dip and where they rose again. Her vision was blurred; tears bubbled up and dropped, simple as if all they really were, were a representation of the effects of gravity and not the terror and sadness and ache and loss that emanated from her chest like a flower’s petals billowing outwards from its center.

She saw the last four hundred years of her life, the dances she’d had, the people she’d killed, the small moments of snatched happiness she’d managed to conjure. All those memories, a dark expanse of regret and sorrow and existentiality. And then – and her hands instinctively tightened on Laura – came the sun.

“How is waltzing scandalous?” Laura had asked, the very image of incredulity.   
  
“Well…” and in that tiny, cramped dorm room, they had waltzed.

Carmilla felt the edge of her lips quirk up momentarily at the memory, a half-smile that disappeared as soon as she refocused her eyes back on Laura, and the bright candle of what had been and what could have been was snuffed out.

The vampiric sense in her dully noted that they were now alone. Shifting, Carmilla backed up, Laura still secure in her hold, until her back hit the hard rocky wall of the cave. She sat cross legged, smoothing the tresses of Laura’s golden hair away from her peacefully still face. She might as well have been sleeping. In death, the corners of her mouth were slightly raised, as if her last thought had been something funny. Perhaps she was thinking of all the times Carmilla had snuck up on her while she was in the middle of recording. Or maybe she was thinking about how many cookies there’d be, wherever she was going. Typical Laura. Tastefully inappropriate, her love for cookies.

There was a kind of serenity visible on her face, as if a mask had settled, smoothing the corners of her eyes and giving her cheeks an almost youthful glow. Carmilla stared at those cheeks, wishing she had a heart so that it could pound furiously against her chest in palpable pain, so that she could tangibly feel the extent of her grief. She felt empty. As if she had been a dead husk that Laura and all her joy and brightness and optimism had filled up, up and over the brim so that Carmilla herself had felt and loved and cried, and now that what kept her truly alive was dead, she was once more empty.   
  
She closed her eyes. Sight was too painful. She could hear herself breathing consciously, as if the intake and expulsion of air was a lifeline that she had latched on to and was all she could think to do at that moment. She could see it now. Stretched before her, a grey, winding road down a landscape devoid of any hope, or colour…of _Laura._ Bleak. The curse that was her immortality would lead her down this path, stumbling, crying out, always, always missing the girl who did her best in life.

It was so beautiful how she tried. So pure and so heartfelt. How did Carmilla ever think she deserved this kind of love? She was an idiot, through and through. She’d gone and thought she had the capacity to love and be loved, and now look where she was. Laura was dead because of her. Because she’d allowed herself to be part of something greater than herself. It was like Mattie had told her, time and time again. This kind of love was nothing but a form of destruction.

Her lips parted a fraction, and she let herself speak the name once more. “Laura…” Her tongue caressed the beautiful word, dragging it out, her mouth forming the small circle that tapered out the end of the name. Laura Hollis. The naïve, provincial girl who bounced and pushed and shoved her way into Carmilla’s shadowy, grey life and brought with her all the light and innocence of the world. And what an impact she had made. Carmilla felt herself smile. She opened her eyes and looked down once again, through her tears, at Laura. So jubilant in life, so peaceful in death.

Carmilla found herself floating, thinking of the universe and its stars. So many millions of them, all winking in and out of existence as time leisurely strolled by, ignorant of the lives of the millions of people weaving in and out of its eternal lifetime. Time. It was all she had left. Sure, she could go and carve out another life for herself. Leave this mess behind. Try and start over again. God knows how many times she’d run from a failed life to begin anew. It had almost become procedural, as simple as reading instructions from a booklet. It wasn’t like she’d ever invested much of herself, or enough to cause considerable pain at parting anyway. It was easy.

Stupid. She knew it was a lie. The moment Laura Hollis had come into her life, it had been upended. She was like a plant that had finally grown its roots and settled, basking in the sun that was Laura. Laura gave her purpose, gave her meaning, gave her love that wasn’t born of ulterior motives or desire for something other than her. Laura loved her, simply and wholeheartedly. That was all there was to it.

A sob choked out of Carmilla and she wiped her eyes. Laura wasn’t so warm anymore. The tips of her fingers were cold, and her lips were fast turning blue. The cave was cold and empty and small, much like what remained of Carmilla’s world. There really was nothing left to do.

Carmilla half closed her eyes and imagined that she was standing in a field full of flowers, far, far away from Silas University. The sky shone as blue as the clouds were white, and the waist-high grass tickled her fingers as she waded through. And then she was standing there, the sun warming her face, a gentle breeze caressing her hair, and she knew if she waited long enough, a small figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger, and she would see that it was the only person she would ever love, and she’d laugh and run towards her, and Laura would laugh and run towards her too. And that was all their world would ever be, one of purity and brightness, an eternal landscape of beauty. One where Laura Hollis was safe and by her side.

The four hundred year old vampire opened her eyes and the fantasy dissipated, dissolving into the cold thin air. The truth was plain and simple. Laura was dead.

There was nothing left in the world for Carmilla Karnstein. 


End file.
